Unscripted Fate
by FireflyLlama
Summary: Fate is seen to be a certain fact. Fate can decide upon life, death, love. It was that very same fate that brought Katniss and Peeta together. But what if, after all this time, fate was actually wrong? What if Katniss wasn't supposed to fall in love with Peeta, but was meant to be with Gale? What if fate was unscripted?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- Ok, so I've had this idea for a while now... and I finally decided to write it! This isn't my usual style, as I mainly write longer stories... But, I hope you like it anyway, especially those Gale fans :D I am totally with you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, I would show you my birth certificate to prove it, but I'm not sitting beside you so you'll just have to take my word for it. x**

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I'm walking. In the dark. The moon has decided against me; cruelly ducking behind buildings and refusing to share its limited light with me, to guide my way on this dark, forbidding night. But, I suppose, even if it weren't hiding, I would still be walking in the dark. It's winter and the clouds have gathered in the deep night sky. So even if by chance the moon hung high, it's short beams of white light would be suffocated, swallowed by the blanket of clouds.

I'm walking in the dark, surrounded by ebony shapes and shadows. Everything merges together; all one huge black hole of emptiness. Sort of like my heart.

I'm trudging. In the cold. The bitterness of mid-winter hangs in the air. It encases me, traps me, holds me. The deathly claws, as cold as death itself, swipe at my face and snag at my clothes. They send shivers down my spine. My breath, though I cannot see it clearly, puffs white clouds that linger in the icy stillness of the night and then gradually fade to remake the hole in the black abyss.

I'm trudging in the cold, stalked by winter's hands. They pull at my feet, they pull them down to the crisp ground; sunken and unable to rise. Sort of like my mind.

I'm stumbling. Alone. The District is sleeping. Children; tucked up in itchy blankets, four siblings squashed up on one flattened old mattress, whose springs gave up a long time ago. Parents; tired, weary after tough days of hard labour, soaking up the night like sponges and dreading the time when the sun will rise.

I'm walking alone, followed only by the creaks of swinging sign posts and the occasional scuttle of rats' paws on wood. Everything else has gone, diminished into nothing but thoughts; drifted away silently. Sort of like my soul.

My boots, worn and battered, scrape the ground I walk on. The soles are dotted with gashes and crevices that allow the cold and the wet from the puddles I step in to soak into my equally gappy socks. My toes are numb from the murky water that sloshes around my feet.

And my clothes; they're not what you would call winter wear. My t-shirt is loose and rumpled, creases forming unscripted patterns and hanging lazily from my shoulders. My trousers are stiff; rigid as my legs move within them. And my jacket is the only thing good about my clothing. Thick, durable, brown leather. It's really made for hunting; a comfortable stretch where needed and a leather that stays cool in the summer, but insulates in the winter. I guess it's the only thing keeping me from freezing to death in this bleak mid-winter night.

A dim light catches my weary eye. It flickers steadily and it's somehow beckoning. Like a moth to a candle. Another sense calling me in; whispering for my presence. So I find myself chasing it.

It's not much of a chase, as the light never moves to challenge me. It stays, like a beacon. And I'm merely to meet with it.

My boots scuff the crackling road and my t-shirt flaps in the harsh wind. I pull my arms around my torso tightly, sealing in the warmth and barricading out the cold.

The wind howls down my ears and slaps at my face. The deathly chills slip through my nostrils and the stinging whips scald my eyes. It's testing, but I push on.

The shadowed buildings become nothing and the scurrying rats become simply a distant memory. It's as if the District has vanished and that one light is the only thing left to stand. I'm unsure how or why, but I feel a strong connection with the light. Maybe I'm just tired, worn out by the night and subconsciously seeking shelter. Or maybe there really is something waiting for me. Like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Stepping in yet another puddle, I ignore the wave of water swashing my feet. A dampness crawls up my leg; at first I think it's a snake, like the ones I used to find in the woods, but then I realise that it's just water soaking in my trousers.

When I look back up from the raven coloured ground, I see the light. Hovering, just a hundred yards away, it waits patiently for me. Its easy glow urging me onwards even though my shoes are swamps, my clothes are battered and my body is trembling with cold.

_Just a short distance to go. Not too far now._

I break out into a clumsy run. My feet hit the ground like bricks and rainwater sprays up at my face. The wind screeches down my ears and the winter snarls around me. It's hardly bearable and I almost feel like giving up. But why should I quit now when I'm so close?

So close that I stop running. I stop jogging. I stop walking.

The light is merely steps away. And I can see now that it is not a beacon, nor any sign for that matter. It's simply a soft candle flame behind a frosted window. It shouldn't have looked so bright, except the darkness of the night made it ever so bold and noticeable. Like black ink on white paper.

Gently opening the gate with trembling fingers, I recognise the shaping of the wood. Its carved and curved frame tells me where I am. Yet I carry on.

Passing the neat shadow of the low built stone wall and the smell of damp moss, I continue towards the window. I finally come to a halt as my face is parallel to the translucent glass and the light behind.

Pulling the sleeves of my jacket over my palms, I rub a small circle onto the window. The frost wipes away easily and a small peep hole is left. Crouching slightly, I peer inside. I don't want to. I don't want to see what's inside. But I look anyway.

A lounge. With a cosy fireplace, sofas draped in coloured blankets, a low table decorated in stained mugs and a warmth that deepens all the way to the hearts of the people inside. Not like me, who shivers outside, standing and watching like a nobody. A nobody that no-one wants. Who no-one remembers. That's me. I'm not like the people in there.

I'm not the gentle husband, whose hands tenderly run his wife's aching feet. I'm not him, who sits in the warmth, staring lovingly into his wife's grey eyes and strokes her long, brown hair. I'm not him who has all this.

I don't have the lounge with the roaring fire. I don't have the cluster of mugs, all stained with tea and lip marks.

And I don't have the beautiful wife.

No, not anymore. She belongs in there, all warm and cosy, with her usual braided hair released from its twining style and left to flow behind her. She belongs with the gentle husband, with the soft hands and kind nature.

Katniss belongs with Peeta now.

Not with me.

I lost her a long time ago.

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**A/N- Yay, so that was it. I hope you enjoyed it, I found it quite fun to write, despite being a little mean on our Gale-baby :( **

**Ok, so please please please review! I really want to know what you thought of it! You're opinions mean soo much to me and the future of this story depends on the reviews. I have an idea of how to carry this story on, so if you want more, then review and I shall update! **

**Thanks, FireflyLlama xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- Hellooo! Ahh, yes I am updating this story! So, I decided not to have this as a one-shot like I originally intended, but instead as a continuing story. It won't be a long story, maybe around ten chapters or something..? Anyways, here is the next chapter, this time in Katniss' POV! Enjoy x**

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Katniss

The smell of freshly baked bread slips through the door and into the bedroom. Its comforting and familiar scent tempts me, lures me, persuades me. Sitting up, I stretch out my arms above my head and shake off the remnants of sleep of sleep, yawning in the process. This morning I feel good, which is rare really for the mornings I've been having over the past few weeks. And for another strange but assuring reason, I managed to sleep through the whole night. Maybe the insomnia is finally laying off.

With another whiff of warm bread, I'm persuaded entirely and swing my legs out of bed. Sliding my feet into my velvety new slippers, I rise from the bed. I walk with a slight wobbly edge, due to only just getting up, and go over to the door, taking down the dressing gown that hangs on the hook behind. Slipping into it, I follow the smell of bread downstairs.

The kitchen door is open, deliberate so that I could smell the new baking, presumably. I walk through the doorway and into the room, the friction under my feet slippery from the soft slippers that I wear.

I the kitchen, leant over something on the kitchen counter, is Peeta. His blonde hair is still ruffled from his sleep and a clean white apron is tied around his waist. I don't think he has heard my entrance, so I decide to be the first to speak.

"Morning." I say sweetly, placing my hands on his sturdy shoulders. He doesn't turn around, as he's busy concentrating on his loaf, but replies back.

"Morning." He says cheerfully. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I actually did for once." I answer, removing my hands and stepping back from him, closer to the kitchen table. "And you?"

"In and out, I guess. Couldn't sleep after six, so I decided to do some baking instead."

"Ooh," My stomach grumbles at the mentioning of baking. "What is it? Bread?"

Peeta turns around, a plate of sliced white bread with crusty crusts in his hands. He walks over to the breakfast table and sets the plate down. He then pulls out a seat and gestures for me to sit. I take the seat and thank him.

"Yum, this looks delicious." I eye up the steaming bread. "Can I eat it?"

"Not yet, wait one second." Peeta rushes over to the counter and comes back with a small silver tray holding a boiled egg with the top sliced off and a small metal spoon lying next to it. A large mug of tea stands in the corner.

Placing the tray in front of me, Peeta declares. "A fine breakfast for a fine lady."

Grinning, I take a slice of bread and begin dunking it into the egg. The runny yolk soaks into the air holes in the bread and some even spills down the outside shell. And it smells gorgeous. "Many thanks, dearest husband."

"Only the finest for my lovely wife." He plants a small kiss on my cheek. "Now, you enjoy whilst I hop in the shower."

I nod, my mouth full of food. Peeta flashes me one last smile before disappearing upstairs. I turn back to my small feast.

When the last scraps of egg are scraped from the inside shell and put into my mouth, I lean back with pleasure, My stomach feels comfortably full and I feel even better than I did before. Taking the half filled mug of rich brewed tea, just how I like it, I sip at the boiling liquid, letting it trickle warmly down my throat and into my stomach; a cosy sensation for this cold looking winter's day.

Sipping the tea, my gaze moves to the window. The glass is slightly steamed up, a thin layer of white coating the otherwise transparent material, but it's little enough for me to see outside. I can see that it is definitely a white winter, from the icicles dripping down from the window panes and the thick, not slushy, snow that blankets the ground. It looks almost magical.

Downing the last mouthful of tea, I take the dirty dishes over to the sink of hot, soapy water. My hands tingle as they are plunged into the steaming liquid, but the bubbles ease my skin as I scrub the mug and plates. Once clean and sparkling, I place them on the draining board so that they can drip dry. Peeta always says that that's the best way to do it.

Removing the plug, I watch the water swirl around in circles until it slides down the drain and leaves behind a bare sink. Then, I dry my hands on a cloth and walk out the kitchen and up the stairs.

Just as I pass the bathroom, the door swings open and Peeta walks out, dressed in only a towel that covers is waist to his ankles. His chest is bare and tiny droplets of condensation rest on his smooth skin. His hair is still wet, the dampness changing his usual golden blonde hair to a dark, dirty shade. He grins as I walk past him.

Going into our bedroom, Peeta follows me.

"Nice shower?" I ask him politely, opening my side of the wardrobe and peering inside.

My hands are running along my small selection of shirts when Peeta replies. "It was pleasant enough."

"Have you planned to do anything this morning?" I ask him, deciding on a dark green shirt and some average trousers to match.

"Hmm," Peeta sits on the end of the bed. "Not really. Have you?"

"I was thinking of going down to the new Hob; you know it's almost finished?" I say. The original Hob was destroyed in a Capitol bomb attack about five years ago and it has been rebuilt over the last six months. In the past few years, people have also moved back to the District and it's starting to get back to normal. Well, as normal as it can be.

"Oh yeah, I heard the stalls have moved back in there." Peeta says. "Are you buying anything, because if you are, could you see if there's any of that new sugar they bought in last week? I was thinking of making some of that raisin bread."

I nod. "Sure, anything else?"

"No, that's all thanks."

Peeta stands and goes over to his own wardrobe, sticking his head inside and searching for something to wear for the day. I go back to my own clothes on the bed and begin stripping out of my pyjamas and changing into the clothes.

Once dressed, I go into the bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face and tie my long hair back into it's usual braid. After all these years, I still haven't changed hairstyle. I don't want to change, I feel like the braid is my special trademark or something; I'd be unrecognisable without it.

"Ok, I'm on my way now." I pop my head into the bedroom. "I'll see you for lunch in a few hours."

Peeta's head is halfway inside his t-shirt so he sticks his thumbs up at me instead of nodding.

"Bye then!" I call out, pulling out of the bedroom and heading downstairs.

Grabbing my boots, I slide my feet into them and pull my jacket down from the hook. I put it on and snatch up a basket on the way out. I close the door behind me, not bothering to lock it as Peeta is in, and parade down the pathway.

The air is cold outside, sending a small chill down my spine and causing me to shiver gently. The snow beneath my boots makes a soft sound as I walk on it and my fingers wipe the layer of frost off the gate as I go through it.

Pushing the gate closed behind me, I stroll down the road, taking in the cold, but refreshing, winter air into my lungs. There's barely any wind, so the atmosphere seems settled as I walk on down in the direction of the main town.

On the way, I pass a few children playing in the crisp snow. They're only about six or seven, their little high-pitched squeals of delight piercing the air and showing that they're having fun. Fun that I didn't have at their ages. Still, it's nice to see them happy and normal, throwing balls of snow at each other and shoving it down the backs of their coats. As I walk along the road beside them, they stop playing and raise their gloved hands in greeting.

"Hiya, Katniss." The smallest of the three smiles up to me. "Do you want to play in the snow with us?"

I get this a lot; kids talking to me. Before the games, they barely noticed me, but since then, I've become like a role model for them. It's really sweet and I have finally adjusted to this new kind of fame.

"I have some shopping to do this morning, but how about I come and play this afternoon?" I say to them. "Maybe I can persuade Peeta to come too."

The girl's face lights up, as do the faces of her two friends. The girl nods happily and replies, "Yes please, Katniss! Try and get Peeta to come too!"

"I'm sure he will." I say. "Now, I'm going to get my shopping and I'll see you later, ok?"

"Bye Katniss!" The three children chorus as I walk down the path. I turn and wave my hand towards them, then continue towards the Hob.

As I come into the main, busier part of the District, the hustle and bustle of normal life becomes to clear to me. It seems that the weather is the cause for much of the rushing around, not many people like to wait around in the cold.

Some women carrying baskets similar to mine flash me warm-hearted smiles and I raise a hand in recognition. It's actually quite nice for people to respect me like they do, I almost feel like a saint or something.

As I near the Hob, the amount of people seems to multiply by around five. Small clusters of chatting women, swarms of running, laughing children and groups of men marching around carrying all sorts on their shoulders. On the occasion, someone gives me a wave or smiles at me, but on the whole, people are too busy with their normal lives to bother noticing me. But in a way, I feel more relaxed. If every single person I passed said hello, I'd be in here all day.

The Hob inside is virtually the same as it always has been. The same dusty smell, the same dim light and the same sound of coins clinking in hands. The set up is even the same as before; the stalls organised in groups. Food items on one side, fabrics on another and all the other types of goods dotted about.

I find my way over to the food area and begin scanning for the sugar Peeta requested. I find it soon enough, only a few bags left. I take one and pay, placing the sugar into my basket and continuing my shopping.

I end up buying more than I thought I would. My basket is close to bursting with all kinds of items, from fruit to some new fabric that would look great as curtains in the lounge. I carry the basket with the handle hooked onto my arm and I walk cautiously out of the Hob.

I'm walking down the road, barely a few hundred yards from the Hob when an unannounced twinge in my stomach strikes and I come to a halt. As my hand goes to clutch my side, my other arm crumbles under the weight of the basket and it slides off, hitting the ground with a thud. All the items inside come tumbling out, scattering along the frosty floor. As I bend to pick them up, another sharp pain comes and I have to stop.

"Ouch!" I hold my side, my fingers digging into my skin to try and numb the pain. But now it's constant and all I can do is stand, my back hunched over.

I hear the sound of footsteps, but I can't look up to see who it is, so my sight is limited to looking at the ankles and boots of the person. I can tell from the feet that it's a man.

"Are you ok?" The man asks, bending down. He begins to collect my items and places them into my basket. "What happened?"

The pain starts to ease, so I'm able to reply. "I just felt a sudden pain in the side of my stomach and then I dropped the basket."

"Well, everything is put back in and nothing seems damaged." He tells me. "Here, let me help you up properly."

The man comes beside me and takes my arm, gently lifting my upper body so that I stand straight. There is a slight twinge in my stomach, but it's nothing much so I find it comfortable to stand.

"Thank you ever so-" I start thanking the man, but my voice trails off.

It's Gale.

Gale's face looks as shocked as mine as he stares in disbelief at me. "Katniss."

"Gale."

Without saying anything else, Gale throws his arms around me and squeezes my body close to his. I can hear his heart thudding quickly beneath his chest and his breaths are hot on the back of my neck. When he pulls away, I swear there are tears in his eyes.

"Gale, it's been five years." I say to him. "Where have you been?"

Gale shuffles awkwardly on his feet, as if I've found him guilty for a crime. "District Two... you know that job I got? Oh, god, Katniss, I'm so sorry I didn't keep in touch...I was just...you know, with Peeta and all..."

"I know, you must have felt a bit awkward...but Gale, I really missed you! You're my best friend in the whole universe, you don't know how hard it was for me without you."

"I do understand, Katniss. I felt the same..."

"Then why didn't you come back before?! Why has it taken you five years?"

Gale shrugs, falling silent.

At that moment, I feel sympathy for him. He's been away for five years and as soon as he comes back, I start moaning at him? That's not what a good friend does. I must be crushing him.

"Look, Gale, I'm sorry." I reach out my hand and touch his arm. "I was just a little shocked to see you after all these years, that's all. I didn't mean to sound harsh."

"You have the right to be annoyed with me, Katniss." Gale says. "I left you all those years ago. I was the one that moved away to District Two, not you. I should be the one apologising."

"No, don't apologise." I say softly. "Things happen, it's just how life is. But the main thing is that you're here now and hopefully... you're staying?"

"Yeah, well for a while. I dunno how long for, but I won't be disappearing without a warning."

"Where are you staying?"

Gale runs a hand through his thick, dark hair. "I got some work doing some rebuilding in the town and in return I get a small room in one of the houses. S'ok I suppose, I mean it's got a roof and stuff. And there are meals included."

"When did you get back?" I ask.

"Yesterday." He answers. "Got the job this morning."

I frown. "Yesterday? So where did you sleep last night?"

Gale looks to his feet shamefully.

"Gale, where did you sleep?" I repeat.

"In some old, empty shed." He finally replies quietly.

"Gale, you must have been freezing!" I exclaim. "Do you realise you could have died?! It was below freezing point last night; it's the middle of winter!"

Gale shrugs. "Well I didn't die, did I?"

I shake my head. "Oh Gale, what are you like? You stupid idiot."

Even though it sounds like an insult, I actually have a smile on my face as I give him a playful shove. He grins back and knocks into me gently, not as rough as he used to, probably because of the position he found me in earlier.

"So, how's the pain?" Gale asks.

"Pretty much gone now." I answer truthfully. It's still there, but not as much so it doesn't really bother me.

A man, about in his mid forties, comes swaggering towards us, He gives me a polite smile, then turns to Gale.

"You ready to start working, lad?" He asks simply.

"Oh yeah, sorry. I'm on my way now." Gale says and the man nods, before walking away.

Gale then looks to me, his cheeks flushed.

"Ooh, getting told off before you even start." I laugh. "Naughty boy."

Gale scowls at me and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Well, you heard my boss, I'd better be off. And I bet Peeta will be wondering where you are anyway, so you'd best get going too."

"Ok, I'll see you soon then." I say. "Work hard, _'lad'_. Don't want you to lose your job on the first day, do we?"

"I'll be on my best behaviour, don't you worry." Gale grins as he backs down the road, nearly bumping into a passing person. He jolts in surprise and rushes after the person to apologise. I smile as I watch him asking for forgiveness, then eventually turn away and start on my way back home.

As I walk, I debate about what to tell Peeta. Should I tell him about Gale's return? If I tell him, what will his reaction be? Will he be angry at Gale's sudden reappearance after all these years and what I had to go through after he had left? I know Peeta is very protective over me, but what lengths would he go to prevent me from being hurt again?

Well... what he doesn't know won't kill him, right? Sure, the time will come when he realises Gale is here, but until then, I'm keeping silent. I'll cross the bridge when I come to it.

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**A/N- Ok, so that was chapter two of Unscripted Fate. Did you like it? I hope so :D**

**Ok, so as I said this will be updated, I'm not sure how often, as I have 'Fear Lies Within' to write, which is my main focus at the moment. But I will try to write this as often as I can for those fans!**

**All I can say now is thank you for reading this and I hope you will continue and support this story. For all you Gale fans, I hope this has lightened since the first chapter and I apologise for being a little mean on poor Gale. I am team Gale over Peeta... Anways, please please please review! I cannot stress the importance of reviewing so that I can hopefully continue the story! **

**Thanks, FireflyLlama xxx**


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